Stranger
by Raven Wolfmoon
Summary: Oneshot. Kenji learns the truth about his father's past.


_A/N: This was a random idea that struck me one day, so I thought about it and wrote it at work the next day. I feel like it's about time that I paid homage to my favorite series of manga! I also really, really, REALLY love the thought of Kenshin as a daddy, and I feel like this is how he would raise Kenji. Ah RuroKen, I love you so! _

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Kenji was stunned. Out of the myriad emotions swirling through him, that was the first and foremost. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his father was actually Battousai the Manslayer. It just…didn't fit.

He had never known his father to hold a sword, let alone wield one. In fact, considering his father's diminutive stature, Kenji would be surprised if he could even lift one!

Not to mention the fact that Battousai was a bloodthirsty murderer and his father was the exact opposite – Kenshin was a quiet, unassuming man who gave small smiles and soft-spoken encouragement. He avoided the dojo where his fiery mother and her students practiced, and, to be honest, he was relatively weak. Kenshin couldn't walk to town and back without being winded.

His father was a gentle old man, not an assassin!

At least, Kenji didn't want to believe that he was. It changed everything he knew about his father. Suddenly every fabrication he had imagined of Kenshin's life was shattered, ruined, leaving him estranged from the man he thought he knew.

Who was his father, really? The manslayer or the patient husband? A bloodthirsty killer or a soothing father?

Who was Kenshin to him?

Kenji was lost amid confusion and betrayal. How could it be that, after ten years of life, his father was still a stranger to him?

Of course, he should have expected something like this to happen. While Kenshin had always been honest with him about his life, it was obvious that he had left out some important details.

He had told Kenji about his childhood tutelage under Hiko Seijiro, and how he had learned a powerful sword style that made him a formidable warrior. He explained how he had sided with the Ishin Shishi in the Bakumatsu as a soldier, and then once the conflict ended he had abandoned his sword in favor of protecting innocent lives. Kenshin had vaguely outlined his life spent as a wanderer leading up to the moment of his meeting with Kaoru, and from that point Kenji knew the details like the back of his hand.

But his father was hiding something.

Kenshin never described the battles to him, never talked about the companions he had made and lost, never mentioned any location besides Kyoto.

Kenji knew something was amiss in the way his father's eyes would glaze over, knew it in the way Kenshin would grow sad at a certain date every year and leave to pray at the local shrine.

His mother had explained to him once that Kenshin had lost a very dear friend in Kyoto, and that he paid respects to this mysterious person every year on the anniversary of their death. Kenji also knew from subtle hints that his father used to travel all the way to Kyoto to honor this person's memory before, but in recent years his physical deterioration had prevented him from making the long journey.

Who was this person?

And more importantly, why were his parents keeping secrets from him? Kenji was ten years old – no longer a child, and well on his way to manhood. Couldn't he be trusted with the truth?

According to his mother, he couldn't. Right before the reveal, he had seen her flitting around nervously, speaking to his father in low, anxious and even pleading tones. He knew she was just trying to protect him, but from what?

The fact that his father, Himura Kenshin, was Battousai the Manslayer.

Kenshin had told him he wanted to be honest with him, and Kenji had appreciated the sentiment at the time, glad that his father was starting to recognize him as an adult. But now he almost wished things would go back to the way they were, when everything was simple and he didn't wonder how many men his father had killed and if their faces still haunted his nightmares.

Kenji didn't want to imagine the demonic face of his father maliciously enjoying the slaughter of innocent life.

Why couldn't Kenshin remain Kenshin, the father with dopey smiles and a tendency to get smacked on the head by his mother? Why couldn't the 'oro' that was Kenshin's innocent trademark remain innocent?

Why had his father deceived him? Why had he let Kenji think he was innocent when, in light of this truth, he was so clearly guilty of his crimes?

Kenji desperately wished it wasn't true, that his parents had lied to him, but when his watery gaze had lifted and met his father's amethyst eyes, he saw emotion there so strong that he knew the truth was irrefutable.

His father was Battousai the Manslayer.

"Kenji?"

Kenji's head snapped up at his name, returning to awareness. After seeing the pain reflected in his father's eyes, he had bolted from the room, unable to bear it. It seemed that, in the time he had taken to try and process all he had learned, his feet had unwittingly taken him toward town, toward the apartment where his true hero lived with his family.

"Kenji? You okay?"

Kenji glanced up at Yahiko and realized that tears were streaming down his face. He hurriedly wiped them away, embarrassed at having been caught acting childish.

Yahiko pretended not to notice and instead bent down to meet his eyes. His expression was kind and understanding.

"They finally told you, didn't they?" he asked gently.

Kenji tried to stifle his emotions, to act like the man he should've been, but he was failing miserably.

"You…you knew?" he whimpered. He cursed how feeble his voice sounded, and how it trembled madly.

"Yeah, I knew," Yahiko answered easily, standing to drape an arm across Kenji's shoulders as they meandered down the road. "I mean, I _have_ known your parents a long time."

"So you knew him when he was…" Kenji trailed off.

"Oh, no!" Yahiko amended quickly. "He was Battousai long before I met him. But the evidence was all there. You know why I only call myself the second best swordsman in all Japan?"

Kenji shook his head, frowning.

"It's because your father was the best swordsman that I've ever seen, maybe even that ever lived."

Kenji gasped and stared at Yahiko, his living idol. Yahiko was a man he very much admired. He was extremely skilled with the sword, having mastered his mother's sword style. But beyond his skill, he was a legend – he protected the weak and had saved the town and nearby ones so many times that no ruffians had even bothered to infiltrate the area in several years.

Kenji had seen Yahiko at work and had marveled in awe, vowing that he, too, would become a hero like Yahiko.

And now Yahiko was saying _his_ _father_ had even surpassed _him_.

"But my father…" he tried feebly, trying to reconcile the images in his mind.

"I know it's hard to imagine, but Kenshin was once young too, you know. This was his sword, actually, that he passed on to me."

"Your sakabatou?" Kenji breathed, eyeing the sheathed blade hanging from Yahiko's waist. So many of his fantasies had involved that sword, and it had actually been wielded by his father, the manslayer…

"Yes, it was your father's. With it, he saved countless lives, even all of Japan at one point when he beat Shishio. Have you heard that story?"

Kenji shook his head, his eyes wide. His father had saved the country?

Yahiko launched into the tale, trying not to embellish things too much. He included his own fights and provided some details on Kenshin's ultimate battle, which he had learned from Sanosuke.

"And even after all that, he didn't kill him," Yahiko finished. "Shishio died because of his burns and because he had over-exerted himself. Your father drove him past his limit as he exceeded his own, causing Shishio's defeat and Japan's liberation. Your father was a hero and, well…he still is. He's the reason why I became how I am. He…inspired me."

Kenji stared in wonder as Yahiko grew emotional, never having expected his idol to reveal so much about himself.

He swallowed thickly, wanting so much to believe Yahiko's account. But how could his father be both a villain and a hero?

Yahiko pat him on the back reassuringly. "Your father was never an evil man. He never enjoyed killing—"

"Then why did he do it?" Kenji burst out, his mind threatening to explode.

Yahiko's face softened. "I think you might want to ask him that one. He can explain it better than I can. Just don't jump to conclusions, okay?"

Kenji felt like pulling his hair out in frustration.

"I don't get it!" he exclaimed. "How could he—? Why—?"

"Calm down, kid," Yahiko murmured. "Here, I want to show you something."

Yahiko walked forward, warning Kenji to remain where he was until there was a sizable space between them. Yahiko breathed deeply as he aimed at an old sign post, preparing his attack. Then, as Kenji blinked, Yahiko drew his sakabatou (no, _Kenshin's_ sakabatou, Kenji reminded himself) and slashed through the air at a blistering speed, following with a thrust of the scabbard. As Yahiko landed, Kenji watched in amazement as the old fence post practically exploded, cleanly sliced in a dozen pieces with wooden shards spraying in every direction.

"Whoa!" Kenji breathed. "That was amazing!"

"But you could see me the whole time, right?" Yahiko asked, panting. Kenji nodded and he pressed on, "Well, I learned that move from your father, but I had to watch him do it several times before I could actually _see_ what he was doing, and even still I haven't been able to copy it perfectly."

Kenji grew somber at his words, abruptly realizing the path his father had taken to get where he was. It made sense, in a way, that his skill with the sword and the style he had learned from Seijiro had made him into Battousai and then later a pacifist wanderer, but it still didn't explain _why_.

For that, there was only one person to talk to.

"I think I need to go," Kenji mumbled as Yahiko grinned at him.

"I think that's a good idea," he replied easily.

Just as Kenji was about to head home, he turned back to Yahiko, scowling.

"Did my parents send you to meet me here?" he demanded.

Yahiko scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I was kind of tipped off, yeah," he admitted, "But hey, don't get mad. Your mother was just worried about you. You've been gone for several hours and it's starting to get dark. She'd have my hide if I left you to wander outside all alone at night."

Kenji felt his abrupt anger ebb away as he nodded in understanding. Despite being a master of the Kamiya Kasshin, Kenji was still sure Yahiko would be completely pummeled by Kaoru, especially if she was in a motherly rage.

Thinking of his fierce mother made a thought come to mind.

"Does my mother know everything?"

Yahiko nodded. "Yeah, she does."

"Even the Battousai part?"

"Oh, she knew that from the beginning when they first met!" Yahiko laughed.

Kenji eyed the ground. So his mother knew, but wasn't bothered about it. So why was he making such a big deal out of it?

Because he didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

Kenji sighed. He had no choice.

By the time he returned home, twilight had come and gone. The first few stars were twinkling in the sky, and the moon was rising slowly in the west.

If he wasn't so distracted, Kenji knew he would be fretting over the kind of punishment his mother would give him for being out so late. Instead, he was just wondering how to confront his father.

He hesitated at the front gate, internally preparing for the worst, as he slipped inside. Just as he was about to walk up the stairs, he noticed a silhouette sitting on the porch, leaning against one of the beams, face uplifted toward the sky.

Kenji knew who it was and he knew Kenshin knew he was there.

Treading softly along the wood, Kenji made it over to where his father was resting, or rather, waiting for him to return home. He sat quietly near his father, chewing his lip in agitation. Where should he start?

But Kenshin solved that problem for him.

"I am sorry for not telling you the truth sooner," he murmured regretfully, his low voice emerging from the shadows. "I just wanted to make sure that you would be old enough to understand."

"Understand what?" Kenji cried out. "Understand that you are a murderer?" Even as he spat such foul words he regretted it, watching as his father's face crumpled upon itself in pain. His heart clenched guiltily.

Kenshin took a few moments to calm himself.

"Kenji, I know you probably have many questions. I want you to feel free to ask me anything at all."

Kenji glared at the ground, feeling completely confused.

"What's it like…to kill someone?"

Kenshin sucked in a breath and released it, growing quiet for a moment.

"It is the worst act a person can ever commit. Never in my years as Battousai did I enjoy it. I destroyed countless lives, ripped loved ones away from their families, irreparably damaged them…For a long time I thought I would go to hell for committing such evil, and I still wonder now if I deserve the happiness you and your mother have given me. But I do not regret it."

Kenji gasped and Kenshin pressed forward.

"If I have learned anything since I met your mother, it is that regret is a useless emotion. One cannot change what has already occurred. As much as I may wish otherwise, I cannot change the fact that I was Battousai, and that I killed many people. I can only live my life now as I wish to, as a husband and father. I will never kill again, and while that may not be enough, there is nothing I can do to change that."

Kenji silently soaked in his father's wise words before speaking quietly.

"Why? Why did you become Battousai?"

Kenshin turned to him with a sad smile. "I dreamed for a better future. I thought that peace could be achieved if I helped the Ishin Shishi. Perhaps I was foolish, but the current Meiji Era has certainly been quieter than it was before. I was hoping that I could eliminate war forever, save the future generations of Japan." At this, Kenshin chuckled. "I had very large visions of what I could do. But I truly wanted to make Japan a better place for children like you," he added, smiling fondly at his son.

"For me?" Kenji repeated absently.

"Yes, though if anyone had ever told me that I would have a son, I would not have believed them. I never thought I would meet someone like your mother who immediately forgave me for my sins, and I never thought I would be so lucky to have you. Sometimes fate works in strange ways." Kenshin looked as if he wanted to reach out and touch him, but he quickly mastered that desire as the space between them grew more apparent.

Kenji squirmed uncomfortably. He just couldn't move closer, not yet.

"Who do you pay respects to every year?"

A wistful smile tugged at Kenshin's lips.

"I had thought you would ask that. It is a long story interwoven with my own life, so pardon me if I ramble. I would just like to say that your mother was not the first woman I loved…"

Kenji listened with rapt attention as the sky darkened and his father's soothing voice floated through the darkness, murmuring his life story with dulcet tones, leaving nothing out.

By the end of his momentous tale, Kenji felt his eyelids drooping and his heart aching.

So much had been explained.

His father's motivations, his reluctance to discuss his past, his life with Tomoe, his scar…

It all made sense.

_This_ was his father.

Kenji was suddenly overcome with the desire to touch him, to make sure that Kenshin, _his father_ who made dopey smiles and emitted 'oro,' was really there. Suddenly it didn't matter that he was ten years old. It didn't matter that he was close to manhood.

In that moment, he was just a child seeking confirmation and warmth from the only person who could make it all better.

Kenji moved in the darkness and wrapped his arms around his skinny father, hugging him tight as Kenshin huffed into his hair.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"It was my fault," Kenshin assured him, rubbing his back gently.

"Father?" Kenji asked sleepily.

"Yes Kenji?"

"I…don't care that you were Battousai," he slurred. Through the haze of exhaustion he felt his father tense and then tremble slightly.

"I love you, Kenji. Do not ever forget that," Kenshin whispered in a choked voice, squeezing him tighter.

"I love you too, Father," Kenji replied, lulled at last into sleep by his father's strong heartbeat.

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_A/N: Gah the cuteness! I just couldn't help myself! I got choked up thinking how Kenshin would react to hearing Kenji say that last bit and knew this was how I had to end it, even though it was a bit sappy. Oh well. I love them!_

_On another note, hey RuroKen fans - do you know of any good fics that bridge the gap between the end of Enishi and Kenji existing? I am looking for a REALISTIC romance story that can really illustrate to me how Kenshin and Kaoru were able to move past the barely-holding-hands stage to having-children-together stage. Thanks so much! And, well, if I don't find one that satisfies me I may just write my own, though it may take awhile, haha!_

_Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this!_


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